First Kisses
by Morgana Maeve
Summary: [Roxas.Namine] A caged bird and an almost empty shell.


First Kisses

Morgana Maeve

Oh, my God, it's the apocalypse; Morgana Maeve has written a Kingdom Hearts fic that is not Yaoi or Axel/Roxas. What will happen next? Will pigs fly? Will the world explode? Will the AJ clones cause another Big Bang?

That last one was an inside joke, so it's okay if you don't get it.

Pairing – Roxas/Naminé. Blasphemy, I know.

Dedication – (Yes, this has a dedication; weird, I know.) Written for the person (you know who you are) who reads my Yaoi without being forced to and without even being required to. I'm not good with words unless it's on paper, so I'll let this do the talking so you can get on with the reading. (Now you know why I asked what your favorite Kingdom Hearts pairing was.)

Disclaimer – I own nothing and subsequently earn no money off this. Square and Disney own the characters I'm so illegally borrowing.

(---)

She blends with the background in her white dress and pale skin, the only sounds coming from her the gentle grate of a crayon against paper. She is never without it, paper and crayons, is always lost in her own world of color, ignoring the blandness of the walls. It is only when her cage swings in the whispery breeze does she enter back into obscurity.

He is the same, a bit darker, a bit louder, but mostly the same. Alone and scared, he paces beneath her cage, never realizing it's there, never knowing she resides in it.

But she knows him, if not by name – for he does not have one – then by face. She likes to draw his face, childish as it comes out, and there are stacks upon stacks of papers with just his face on it. On the bars of the cage hang more drawings of him, but in these, he is dressed in the long black coat she knows he will one day wear.

But for now, he paces beneath her, naked, leaving footprints of dust on the white floor, and sometimes, her cheeks color red, for he is the only naked person she has ever seen, or has ever remembered seeing, but it hurts too much when she looks away.

They are both alone, both without hearts or any comfort, but they are both together for they have each other, though neither one talks to the other.

In this world of nonexistence, time is a folly and what seems like years can be just a few seconds. Naminé knows this, but Roxas does not, and from time to time, he screams out, dry tears pouring down his face, and she wants to help him but can't, for she is trapped in her cage, clipped wings unable to fly.

Soon though, he accepts what he is, accepts his incompleteness, and Naminé knows that he has passed this test and that the others will come and welcome their new brother. There is little time left for her to watch him from the background.

And so she draws, for that is all she knows how to do; she draws him and her and folds the paper and drops it from between the bars, watching as it flutters down, swooping and sweeping, and then comes to rest on the pristine floor. It takes time for him to realize it's not part of the floor.

But when Roxas picks it up and opens it, his forehead creases, his eyes narrow, and then he looks up, seeing for the first time, the round bottom of the cage, suspended high above from the ceiling. And peeking out from between the bars is an oh-so-small face.

He dwells on it, mulls over it, but in the end, he cannot make anything of it. But now he finds himself looking up at the bottom of a giant cage hanging out of reach and wondering who it is inside it. It is consuming, powerful.

And then one day, as abilities awaken inside his body, he finds he can jump and ride the air currents, not for long, but just enough to barely grab hold of the bottom rim of the cage. It hurts a little, sharp metal biting into his hand, but it is nothing he can't ignore. He hangs there for a minute, long body weighing him down, but then a soft something covers his hand, small and cool, and he finds the strength to pull himself up, feet where his hand was, hands now on the metal bars.

Naminé stands as well, blue eyes connecting with blue eyes, little hands holding the bars just underneath Roxas'. No word are spoken, for she is a memory-witch, and she can read his every thought through his eyes and send him her thoughts as well. It's really what her powers are for, not the abuse the others put on them.

And so for a time, they stand like that, sharing secrets silently, knowing each other without truly knowing anything at all. But then it ends as the portals slowly appear beneath them, and Roxas feels the tug of his brothers and sister waiting for him, and now he knows he must leave.

There is a true silence; neither one knows if the other will ever be seen again, and then, because it feels like the thing to do, Roxas leans forwards, body pressed tight against the bars, and his lips find Naminé's cheek. It is light and inconsequential, and it means everything in the world.

A turn of heads, a slight shift forward, and their lips come together, both cool, both frightened. Hands move, fingers intertwine, and Roxas tilts his head to slide his lips more firmly over Naminé's, a slight brushing, feathery and dry, devastating.

At first contact, she feels herself falling apart, seams of memories ripping in jagged pops and frayed thread, and as he moves, as he catches her bottom lip between his two, gentle and harsh, she stitches herself back together, Roxas at the center.

And then parting, slow and solemn, and Roxas falls back to the pristine floor into the embrace of false kin, leaving Naminé in her cage, drawing pictures forevermore.

(---)

Wow, no lemon. You all must hate me.

Hey, I'm just glad that I can do a piece that's serious and that doesn't have to be about sex. It just won't be as popular. Oh, joy.

Reviews are appreciated and are in fact highly encouraged.


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